She wasn’t happy, but she was certainly dumbstruck. I could practically hear the cogs turning in her head as she absorbed my big news. Fergus and Amin were also silent, though Amin flashed me an admiring glance. Once again, I caught a glimpse of his expression in the rear-view mirror.
‘Why didn’t you mention this before?’ Mum finally asked, in sceptical tones. It was a good question. Why hadn’t I?
‘Dunno,’ I mumbled. ‘Do I have to tell you everything?’
Another pause. We were nearly at Amin’s place. Mum was frowning
‘So you all decided to visit Nina?’ she said at last. ‘All of you?’
‘Yeah,’ croaked Amin. Fergus grunted.
‘Why?’
She doesn’t believe me, I thought. And suddenly I felt quite cross. Why shouldn’t I have a girlfriend? Other people did. Okay – maybe I was a bit skinny. Maybe I did have to wear extra layers, so I wouldn’t look like a handful of chopsticks tied up with string. That still didn’t mean I was a complete loser. Some girls seemed to like me. Nina had said that I was fizzy and glowing.
‘We went to Nina’s house so we could play on her Wii,’ Amin piped up. I have to admit, I was impressed. Of course! Why else would a whole bunch of boys want to visit a girl?
If Mum hadn’t been watching me, I would have given Amin a thumbs-up sign.
‘She’s got four remotes,’ I elaborated. ‘And this enormous widescreen television.’
‘In a home theatre.’ Amin was on a roll, now. ‘With surround sound and everything.’
I was half expecting Fergus to join in, but he didn’t. By this time we were on Amin’s street. As the car rolled to a standstill at the foot of his driveway, Mum turned to Amin and said, ‘So Nina’s house was better than the movies?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he replied. With his bedroom window in plain sight, he was already a lot chirpier. I noticed that he was clutching the doorhandle. ‘When we spotted Nina, we decided to go straight back to her house.’
‘Instead of buying a movie ticket?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Which is how you paid for the cab?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘You should have given me a call,’ said Mum. ‘I could have picked you up and saved you the fare.’ As Amin squirmed, she added, ‘Where does Nina live, anyway?’
Poor old Amin. He froze up, then; he was stymied. Fortunately, however, I’d been expecting Mum to ask this question, so I had an answer already prepared.
‘Surry Hills,’ I announced. I didn’t even know where it was. I just remembered that Estelle had talked about it.
‘Surry Hills?’ Mum was astonished. ‘But that’s miles away!’
Was it? My heart sank.
‘No wonder you needed all your ticket money for the cab!’ she went on. Meanwhile, Amin was making his escape. He slammed the car door behind him.
‘Bye!’ he gabbled through Mum’s window. ‘Bye, Toby! Bye, Fergus! See you, Mrs Vandevelde!’
He shot up the driveway, beating a hasty retreat. Mum didn’t bother to check that he made it inside. She just hauled at the steering wheel and put her foot on the accelerator.
‘How on earth did you ever meet a girl from Surry Hills?’ she demanded. ‘Through school?’
I was about to say ‘yes’ when it occurred to me that school was too complicated.
‘She was at the park,’ I said.
‘What park?’
‘Nurragingy.’
Mum seemed to accept this. At least, she didn’t comment on it. No one made another sound until we reached Fergus’s place, which was all lit up, as if for a party. There were so many cars in his driveway – and on the nature strip in front of his house – that Mum had to park across the road.
‘What’s going on?’ Mum queried. ‘Is it someone’s birthday?’
‘Nah.’ At last Fergus managed to crank out a few words. ‘It’s just my brother.’
He’d barely finished speaking before the crash of breaking glass reached our ears, faint but unmistakeable. It seemed to come from somewhere beyond the Duffys’ front fence. I could hear thudding music as well.
‘Are you going to be all right, Fergus?’ Mum sounded genuinely worried.
‘Yeah. Course,’ he said. He was already standing on the footpath; suddenly the door banged shut and he was gone. I saw him threading his way between all the utes and customised street-racing cars, which were parked bumper to bumper.
Mum and I sat watching him for a moment. Then she asked, ‘You weren’t in there tonight, were you?’
‘Huh?’ It took me a moment to process this question. When I did, I wasn’t pleased. ‘No! God. Why would I want to go in there?’
‘I don’t know. For the booze, perhaps?’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Just tell me the truth, Toby.’
‘I told you the truth! Jeez!’
‘You were really visiting your girlfriend?’
‘Yes!’
‘Was there booze at her house? Were you drinking together?’
By now I was seriously annoyed. It’s funny; even though I was lying, I was also furious that she wouldn’t believe me.
That’s why I folded my arms and sulked.
‘Is this something to do with what happened on Monday night?’ she pressed. Upon receiving no answer, she kept needling and needling. ‘Toby? Look at me. Were you with Nina on Monday? Have you been trying to protect her? Has she been giving you drugs?’
‘Don’t be stupid!’ I was almost alarmed. ‘She doesn’t do drugs!’
‘Then why won’t you talk about her?’
‘Because I don’t want to!’ God, I was mad, suddenly. I was also scared, and tired, and really confused. ‘Why do we always have to talk about everything?’ I raged. ‘Just because you’re a speech therapist, you think talking is the best thing in the whole world! Well, it’s not! Okay? I don’t wanna talk! I want you to leave me alone, for once!’
The instant I stopped shouting, I realised that Mum wasn’t the only one listening to me. Some guy in the Duffys’ front yard had turned to stare in my direction.
Mum must have realised this too, because she immediately pulled out from the kerb.
‘All right, then,’ she said crisply, as we headed home, ‘why don’t you call her right now?’
‘Huh?’
‘If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But you must want to talk to Nina.’
I didn’t, of course. So I said, ‘Why should I?’
‘Because I need confirmation.’ Mum wasn’t beating around the bush. She wasn’t trying to wheedle and coax. She’d decided to lay her cards on the table. ‘I need to know what you were doing tonight.’
‘Because you don’t trust me!’
‘Because you were found unconscious in a dingo pen on Monday morning, Toby! That’s why!’ She pounded on the steering wheel. ‘I want to know what’s going on! I’m your mother, I’m not just some dumb old idiot who has to be kept in the dark!’
‘Oh, don’t gimme that . . .’
‘How can I believe you when you tell me one thing and do something else?’
‘Fine.’ I yanked out my phone and started to search for Reuben’s number. By that time, I just wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to prove that I had a girlfriend called Nina – even though I didn’t. I wanted to demonstrate how mean and nosy and unfair my mother was.
‘Hello?’
To my surprise, it wasn’t Reuben who answered my call. The voice at the other end of the line was a girl’s voice.
I’d been hoping that Reuben might still be at Dr Plackett’s house, discussing me with his support group. If he’d gone home, I was in trouble.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked, praying that it wasn’t Reuben’s girlfriend.
‘It’s Nina. Who’s that?’
‘It’s Toby.’
‘Toby?’ She seemed even more surprised than I was. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Oh – uh – nothing . . .’
‘Do y
ou want to talk to Reuben? Only he’s driving, you see. He’s giving me a lift.’
‘No, no. It’s okay. I wanted to talk to you.’ I cleared my throat, glancing across at Mum. She was squinting into a trail of approaching headlights. ‘My mother’s here right now,’ I continued, ‘and she doesn’t believe you’re my girlfriend.’
After a loaded pause, Nina murmured, ‘I see . . .’
‘She doesn’t believe I was with you tonight. In Surry Hills. So I thought maybe you could put her straight on that.’
‘Um . . .’ Another pause. ‘Okay.’
‘I told her we were just playing with your Wii, but she – ow!’ Mum had snatched the phone from my hand. ‘What’s your problem?’ I protested.
She didn’t answer me. Instead she swerved into the nearest gutter and stomped on the brake.
‘Hello?’ she barked, addressing my phone. ‘Who’s that?’ The reply took longer than I’d anticipated; I can’t imagine what Nina was telling her. ‘Well, Nina,’ Mum finally said, ‘I’m Toby’s mother, and I’d really like to know how you two spent this evening. Now that I’m actually aware of your existence.’ During the interval that followed, she raised her eyebrows and nodded. ‘Uh-huh. Uh-huh. And where did this happen?’ She pursed her lips as I cringed. ‘Oh really? Because Amin said you had a home theatre. With surround sound.’
‘Amin’s always making things up,’ I began, but she raised her hand and glared.
‘Shhh!’ she hissed. ‘I’m having a conversation!’
‘Mum—’
‘No, no. It’s just Toby. What was that?’ Turning away, she covered one ear. ‘Mm-hmm. I see. Well, that’s very interesting. I’m afraid we don’t have anything like that at our house, but maybe next time you could come over here. So I could meet you.’
‘Mum!’
‘Can I ask how old you are, Nina? Uh-huh. And would you mind telling me how you and Toby met?’
I was stuffed. I knew it. As she listened to whatever rubbish Nina was spouting, I hid my face by pressing my forehead against the window.
‘Oh – all right. If your grandmother wants you, then I guess you’d better go,’ Mum said sweetly. ‘Nice to talk to you. Yes, I will. Goodbye, Nina. Sorry to bother you at this late hour.’
Beep. She broke the connection. Then she tossed the phone into my lap, flicked on her indicator, and pulled out into the traffic.
‘As of tomorrow, you’re grounded,’ she said.
I had terrible dreams that night. After lying awake for hours, I finally dropped off at around three in the morning. But I didn’t sleep well; I remember sitting bolt upright at half-past four, gasping and sweating because I thought I’d been trapped in the dark with something that was closing in – something that I couldn’t see, though I could smell its rank odour and hear its rough, heavy breathing. And the worst thing is, I kept having the same nightmare over and over again. I must have had it at least six times.
I didn’t drag myself out of bed until ten o’clock. By then, of course, my mother had already left for work, despite the fact that she doesn’t usually work on Saturdays. We’d discussed this the night before. Thanks to the way my problems had messed up her schedule, she’d agreed to take a weekend shift for another speech therapist.
‘But that doesn’t mean you’re not grounded,’ she’d warned me. ‘I’ll know if you leave this house, because I’ll be speaking to Mrs Savvides before I go. I’ll ask her to keep an eye on you.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘We’re not going to talk about this now, Toby. It’s much too late. And I don’t expect we’ll have a lot of time tomorrow morning, either. But I’ll be home in the afternoon, and that’s when I’ll want an explanation.’
Ouch.
‘Incidentally, I don’t want to hear that Nina or Amin or Fergus have been visiting. Is that clear? I want you to have some time alone, so you can think about what’s been going on.’
Most kids would probably have told her where she could shove it. Either that or they would have ignored her. Most kids wouldn’t have shuffled off to bed without a word of protest, the way I did.
I guess the sad truth is that I wanted some time alone. I wanted to think about what had happened. But even after several hours of thinking, followed by a broken night’s sleep, I still hadn’t fully absorbed the terrible possibility that I might actually be a werewolf. A werewolf. I kept stumbling over that word; it made no sense to me. How could I be a werewolf? Werewolves didn’t exist. I could grapple with genetic conditions, all right. I could face the fact that Reuben and I seemed to share certain characteristics. I could even accept that the human body might react to the phases of the moon (like with menstruation, for instance). But every time I started to put everything together in my head, I’d hit that word again. Werewolf. And the whole, carefully built argument would come tumbling down.
I could hardly eat breakfast. My stomach seemed to be screwed up into a tight little knot. What was I going to tell Mum? I couldn’t just launch into a no-holds-barred account of my meeting with Reuben’s friends. If I did, she’d blow her top. And then she would complain to the police. And then all hell would break loose.
I didn’t want that to happen. It would be a disaster. Even if Reuben was deluded about everything, it would still be a disaster. The papers would have a field day. ‘Dingo Boy’ would become ‘Werewolf Boy’, and the kids at school would eat me alive.
I was still moping about when the phone rang at ten-thirty. Needless to say, I didn’t answer it. I let our machine pick up the call. Upon hearing Fergus’s voice, however, I began to feel worried. And as soon as he announced that he wanted to meet up ‘and discuss some werewolf ideas’, I hurled myself at the receiver.
‘We can’t meet up,’ I warned him, without even saying ‘hello’. ‘I’m grounded.’
‘Toby?’ he said. ‘Is that you?’
‘I can’t talk. I can’t go anywhere. I’m grounded.’
‘Then I’ll come over there.’
‘No! Fergus!’ I didn’t want him anywhere near my house. ‘Mrs Savvides is spying on me! I’m not meant to be seeing anyone!’
‘So? I’ll just get in through the back.’
‘No!’
‘It’ll be fine. Mrs Savvides is the one across the road, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah, but—’
‘She won’t be able to see me from her place. Not if I come over your back fence.’
‘But someone might think you’re trying to rob us!’
Fergus actually laughed. ‘Are you kidding?’ he scoffed. ‘The only person who’s got a chance of spotting me is that shut-in who lives behind you, and she’s always so drunk she must be used to seeing things in her garden. Like fairies and aliens.’
‘Fergus, I don’t want you to come here. Okay? Are you listening? I don’t want to get in trouble.’
‘You won’t. Swear to God.’
‘Fergus—’
‘See you in a minute!’
And that was that. He hung up on me. I called him back, of course, but his mobile was either turned off or out of range. As for his home number, I didn’t even consider dialling it; if you use that line, you often end up talking to Liam. So I tried Amin’s phone, which was engaged. No luck there.
By this time I was getting angry. Why the hell couldn’t Fergus ever just take a hint? I didn’t want to see him! Was that so hard to understand? I moved to the kitchen window – which faces the back garden – and tried to work out if any of our neighbours would be able to spot him coming over the fence. Probably not, I decided. The neighbours to our right were always at work on Saturday mornings, while the neighbours to our left were completely concealed by the enormous hedge they’d planted. As for the woman who lived behind us, her blinds were perpetually drawn . . .
Suddenly I had an idea. It was one of those brilliant flashes that you get sometimes when you need a bit of distraction from your troubles. I went to the pantry cupboard, where I collected some vital ingredients: flour, honey,
jelly crystals, maple-flavoured syrup. Then I added a few more items to the pile because they appealed to me: a can of whipped cream, a jar of hand lotion, a bottle of rose-scented hair conditioner. Working quickly, I combined all this stuff in a mixing bowl. My next stop was the recycling bin, where I discovered an empty plastic ice-cream container with a flip-top lid. This ice cream container was a lucky find; it was way better than a water balloon, though I had to stick it over the laundry door with thumb-tacks while it was still empty. After that, I tied a long piece of string through the lid – before inserting my glutinous formula. (There was a little bit of leakage, but it wasn’t too bad, because the stuff was more like scrambled egg than liquid soap.) As a final step, I fastened the other end of my string to the doorhandle.
Once that was done, I had nothing to do but sit back and wait.
I have to admit, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. A booby-trap, for me, was the perfect antidote to anxiety and depression; I was so busy imagining Fergus in a rage that I almost forgot the whole werewolf business, which was thrust to the back of my mind as I placed a chair opposite the doorway leading from the kitchen to the laundry. From that chair, I had a perfect ringside seat. I sat there spraying dollops of whipped cream into my mouth, poised for action, until I heard footsteps on the patio outside.
There were two sets of footsteps – and two voices as well. Fergus had brought Amin along.
The doorhandle turned.
‘Hello?’ said Amin. It was such a shame. Fergus had been my target, but Amin was in the wrong place at the wrong time (as usual). When he pushed open the door, my sticky-bomb descended like a giant clump of bird poo. Splat! I’ve never seen anything so perfect.
There was a moment’s stunned silence, followed by gales of laughter. Fergus, who was just behind Amin, had seen everything.
I sprang to my feet as Amin stood gasping, his head streaked with gunk.
‘Oh, oh, oh – that is so good!’ Fergus doubled over, heaving and snorting. It was the ideal moment. I lunged forward, armed with my can of whipped cream, and let him have it straight between the eyes.
Dodging me, Amin slipped in a pool of goo.
The Abused Werewolf Rescue Group Page 13